


someone not to drink for

by snakeintheeye



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Meeting, Angst, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Relationships, Police Brutality, Suggested Alcoholism, Suggestive Themes, gertrud mentioned, her son is unbelievable, i couldnt tell you when this is set, jims kind of a douche i wish it didnt have to be this way, more gobblepot than nygmobblepot at this point, oswald doesnt mind riddles, past gobblepot, repressed homosexuality, workplace bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-10-27 10:18:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17764910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeintheeye/pseuds/snakeintheeye
Summary: After a falling out Oswald Cobblepot goes to great lengths to get himself arrested to talk to Jim Gordon, who can’t admit their past relationship. Oswald makes a friend that keeps him company throughout his crusade and reminds him what battles are worth fighting and what battles aren't.





	1. Chapter 1

Oswald Cobblepot was not the first criminal to be dragged into the GCPD, not the first criminal to be thrown into the birdcage they call holding, and not the first to demand audience with boy detective James Gordon.

He was foolish to think that a petty robbery would coerce Gordon out of his castle, any cop could pick up a retail holdup, even if it was an uptown department store, even if it was Oswald Cobblepot.

But the arrest got him a one way ticket past the walls of Gordon’s sanctuary and into the cage that was so perfectly placed in the view of his desk. Where he’d have no choice but to accept Oswald’s existence as reality.

Oswald had seated himself without struggle in the birdcage, which was enough in itself to unsettle the building, who either were used to or had secretly hoped to see the notorious Penguin struggle and squirm and threaten his way out of justice. He could of put on a show, spit foam at the mouth when he demanded for Jim, just like they all expected, but he had no interest in being predictable or wasting his bloodlust on common police. They hadn’t been ghosting him for weeks, they hadn’t thrown him aside like trash for the sake of reputation and pride.

He was told Jim was out. Of course. He won’t be back for hours. How convenient.  

Oswald waited in the cage and thought of the events that brought him into the bullpen, humouring the officers by being their trophy simultaneously. The past few weeks felt like a fiction, he thought of them until the point of doubt, along with plans of revenge too.

 

~~~

 

_Oswald was pouring a drink for Butch at a late hour in his nightclub. Everyone had left and only half of the lights remained on, a once vibrant scene put to sleep, as Oswald soon intended to be also._

_The sound of the doors bursting opened made both Oswald and the giant Butch jump alike. Oswald yelled that they were closed, but caught himself when Jim Gordon appeared under the dim light. His club was always open for the detective, who he had been pining after for months. His heart, who was obviously behind on the reality of any relationship prospects, drummed louder in his ears with every step Jim took closer to him. Oswald noticed how dishevelled Gordon was. He was missing his jacket and tie, already sporting the smell of a bar._

_He grabbed Oswald by his collar, holding up his hand to the gun Butch already had pointed at him. Oswald was speechless, getting manhandled by the detective was embarrassingly effective at filling his legs with jelly and his mind with unsavory thoughts. The two fought over him until Oswald yelled at Butch to leave them, the last thing he would want is to have someone clean Jim off the floor._

_“What do you want?” Oswald asked, once they were alone. Jim had released him and Oswald found it hard to remain composed with him still in the room. His hair was messed up and it was impossible not to be distracted by two very prominent undone buttons, it was almost cruel._

_Jim remained silent, eyes darting around the room. He was nervous, which made Oswald nervous._

_“Are you in trouble? Is there someone I need to kill?”_

_“No.”_

_“Bribe then? It’s no problem really-”_

_“No. Oswald-”_

_“Well then why are you down here looking like a-”  
_ _Any insult Oswald would have thrown was lost as Jim pressed his lips to Oswalds. He tasted like gin._  


_He should have killed him where he stood, his infatuation had eaten at him over months, to think that Jim felt the same way and only left this to now? But he couldn’t, all he could do was exist in the moment._

 

~~~

 

The memory of their first kiss still had an effect on Oswald, he could still feel his cheeks heat up, he could still feel his stomach churn. He looked around the GCPD for any sign of the detective, but with no success. He sank down onto the cold metal bench, more aware of his caged situation than ever. He hadn’t thought of a plan past yelling at Jim, then seducing his way out, or more realistically, blackmailing his way out. Point was that he was stuck in this birdcage with no likelihood of bail or escape without waiting at least a few hours.

 

~~~

 

_The second time was painfully similar. Both wasted and desperate for each other at a late hour. What else could Oswald expect than this? Jim Gordon was never going to be anything more than a short high._

_Oswald hadn’t honestly thought he’d meet Jim like this again, he thought last time was a fluke, a drunken mistake, a sick practical joke. While he admitted to loving every second of their meeting he was obsessed with the terrifying thought of Jim returning for retribution. He was driven mad by whether he would brave the chance of getting beaten to see the detectives face again or live in fear with the burden of that night and any others that might have been._

_Oswald drank to this thought often. One night more than others. Before he could grasp any sense he found himself stumbling outside the GCPD, top shelf bottle slipping out of hand, at an embarrassingly early drinking hour. When police started pouring out of the building at the end of an afternoons shift anxiety kicked into full drive, steering a less than sober Oswald to hide in an alleyway._

_He didn’t realise he had passed out until he was being shaken awake and given water to down. The most sobering gesture of all was seeing the face of his savior, Jim Gordon, who despite his concerned gaze filled Oswald with dread with his presence. Oswald jolted upright started to crawl back from Jim, spilling what was left of his water. Apologies and pleads against violence spilled from his mouth, he expected at least a sock in the face. He did expect Jim to place his hands firmly on him and help him stand. His legs were surprisingly steady despite his recent drinking, but Jim held onto him anyway._

_“I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice was rough, more so than usual, like he was pained. Oswald nodded in response, still weary of the detective._

_Jim hurried Oswald out of the alley and into his car. Oswald suspected he was trying to hide him from anyone leaving the GCPD, but didn’t put too much thought to it. Not yet anyway. Once in the car Jim downed the contents of a flask hidden in his glove box and offered Oswald the remains of a bourbon, swigging it when he refused._

_That should’ve been a sign._

_They fell silent for more minutes than Oswald cared to count, he eventually grew impatient and annoyed, ridiculed with this limbo that Jim put him in. Only when he had given up and announced his departure that Jim grabbed his shirt once more and kissed him. He felt his whole body heat up with both relief and the desperate need he harbored for the detective. Once again they drunkenly had each other in the dead of night._

 

~~~

 

His memory was disrupted by a presence and the warm smell of coffee. A man hiding behind an abnormally large pair of glasses was staring at him through the bars, a mug full of coffee in his hand, extended towards Oswald.

“Mr Penguin?”

Oswald stared at him, unable to answer. The way he said his criminal identity was not of detest or ridicule like the other inhabitants of the GCPD. He was talking to him with warmth, like he was a person.

“Mr Penguin?” This time louder, making Oswald exit his thoughts once more.

“What?” He replied, without any malice.

“Do you like coffee? I brought you coffee incase you did like it.” He was stumbling over his words, bringing Oswald’s attention to the hot beverage in front of him. Oswald grabbed the coffee, embarrassed that at the distraction this man's voice caused him.

“I do. Thank you.” He looked at the man, expecting him to walk away, but he kept talking.

“I’m Edward. Edward Nygma. But. But most people call me Ed.” he was stumbling again, like he was talking to fast for his mouth to keep up with. Oswald, to his surprise, thought it adorable. “Or Riddle Man. I like riddles you see. Do you like riddles?”

He spoke again before Oswald could reply.

“Never straight but always see through for some I'm impossible no matter what they do. Some I make smile with a twist of my turn but others I amaze with how much they can learn. What am I?”  Oswald pushed back a smile, normally he’d find being interrupted annoying, but Edward didn’t fall over his words this time.

“A riddle?” Lucky guess, Edward clapped his hands together, looking at Oswald as if he was made of gold.  

Before Edward could say anything else, probably another riddle, he was rather roughly pushed aside by a cop. Oswald saw a crushing look on Edwards face.

“Oswald Cobblepot you’re free to go.” Oswald stood up. Remembering his goal he demanded to speak with Detective James Gordon. The cop looked annoyed.

“Haven’t you already? He’s the one letting you go.” He grabbed Oswald’s arm and dragged him out of the cage.

“It doesn’t matter, you’re wasting police time. Leave.”

Oswald demanded an audience with Gordon again, but got ‘escorted’ out of the building.

 

He swore he could see Jim on the upper level, looking down on him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed watches Oswald get detained twice more.

Edward noticed the notorious Penguin returning to the GCPD birdcage twice after their first meeting. He’d figured out rather quickly that Oswald had a fascination with Detective Gordon, his constant insisting on their meeting gave it away. What he couldn’t figure out was what Oswald saw in Gordon that made him so important. Ed wished he was important to someone.

He felt bad for the Penguin. He felt bad seeing him get locked up and thrown around by the police. He couldn’t deny the pain he wanted to make those police feel, no matter how hard he pushed it down.

Oswald answered his riddle.

Oswald looks nice when he smiles.

~~~

Ed heard about Oswald’s second visit in the staff break room. Overheard really.

“Penguin’s down there begging for Gordon again.” Said one meathead.

  
“Freak. He’s so obsessed with him.” Said another.

“Probably has a crush on him.”

Their office gossip lasted longer than Ed expected, it seemed that Oswald’s incarcerations, motives and personal life were hot topics to debate. The words ‘boyfriend’ and ‘crush’ were tossed around, Edward couldn’t help but hear them a little loud than others.

He made a second coffee in record time, he left the break room before Penguin gossip got old and bullying Ed became the next course. Not that these two officers were repeated offenders, but police paperwork wasn’t exciting and yelling at the weird forensic riddle man somehow was. Ed normally spent the work day hidden in the lab or file room, a trip to the birdcage was rather an excursion for him.

Sure enough there he was, Oswald Cobblepot, in the GCPD’s birdcage. He was sharing it with two common criminals, probably pickpockets, sitting very proudly on the opposite side of the cage. Ed smiled, typical Penguin.

“Hi hi.” He said, perhaps too abruptly as Penguin jolted upright. He must’ve been deep in thought.

“God!” He gasped. Ed couldn’t help but to notice how Oswald’s face softened when he looked at him. “Oh. Mr Nygma, hello.”

They talked over the terrible GCPD coffee for what might as well have been hours. Ed found out Oswald had robbed a small bank this time, but he danced around his reasons why. Ed talked the most, he babbled on about his work and hobbies more than he’d care to admit.

Oswald did a good job at pretending to care.

The world became a little darker when he was let out.

~~~

His third visit was less pleasant.

Ed wasn’t there for the start. He don’t know what he would’ve done if he was.

It seemed that the lower level cops got tired of the Penguin treating the GCPD like a drive through.   
It turned out it was bad for troop moral to see a reputable criminal be let off so many times with nothing but a slap on the wrist.

It was unlike Ed to run towards the sounds of male hostility. He’d experienced enough himself for a lifetime or two. But he was worried for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint, something in him pulled towards the situation. The next thing he knew he’d left the sanctuary of the upper level and was in the thick of the action.   
The action being an unfair number of policemen pushing around one of Gotham’s most feared criminals like he was a petty thief who’s rights they’d rather forget.   
The feared criminal, Oswald Cobblepot, continued to defy the policemen with his lack of reaction. His lip was split open and a bruise was forming around his eye and he winced every time he was pushed in the chest, but he was successfully holding back the violent tantrum everyone wanted to see. Which only made his predicament worse, it seemed to become a game of who could make him crack first.

 

Edward felt something dark stir within him, this schoolyard behaviour was something he was all too familiar with. Before any rational thought could stop him some very courageous words slipped out from his lips.

“Pick on someone else.” It was hardly a shout, he had no fire behind his words.

The cops turned to him, amused looks on their faces.   
“Nygma thinks he’s tough now.” One cop said, others snorting in response.  
Ed swallowed, mustering up long gone confidence. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Oswald.

“No. I just. This is a violation of rights.” He started to stutter. Some of the cops scoffed and turned back to their victim. Some help he was.

“Walk away Nygma.” They were already bored of him.

“He needs medical attention! You can’t-” His blubbering was cut off by a larger cop.

“He doesn’t deserve it.” he growled. Ed’s blood finally boiled.

Ed pushed the large cop. _He pushed him._ He made the cop stumble back, mostly out of sheer surprise, but he got the message. Ed was quickly pushed back, except this time he was on the floor.

The cop stood over him, his entire body was aching. He glasses has flown off and he couldn’t hear his threats over a ringing in his ears. He took a blow to the stomach from a heavy boot, which let all the air escape his lungs.

He lay there coughing, his eyes squeezed shut, waiting for another blow. When nothing came he braved opening them, he saw a man standing over him, yelling at the officers.

Jim Gordon picked up his rescue.

Edward didn’t get a chance to talk to Oswald. Jim had sent the officers away, punched one even. He released the Penguin and dealt with the backlash from the rest of the precinct.

He was the hero Ed wasn’t.

\---

There was a huge fuss in the precinct for days after Jim let Oswald go again. Cops let petty criminals walk frequently, usually to follow their own corrupt agenda, but Jim wasn’t like that. Ed couldn’t figure out why sainted Jim Gordon let a known criminal go time and time again, and why said criminal was attracted to him enough to put himself through getting arrested multiple times. Nothing Ed could come up with made any sense. He thought of it often. It was a riddle.

Ed hadn’t seen Oswald since that day. He hoped he was alright. He seemed very concerned about this criminals health recently, not that it worried him, Oswald deserved to have someone worry about him.   
Ed always had an extra mug on hand in case Oswald turned up again.

Ed now had a seething hatred for those cops. He still felt sick to the stomach when he thought about his ineffectiveness when Oswald was getting thrown around. He wished he’d done better, that he was more like Jim even, who had thoroughly scared the lower level police into backing off from harassing him further. He still got back in his own way, taking extra time to deliver files and forensic reports.

The darkness that had grown in Ed that day hadn’t left him since.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did keep writing! this look a while because i think ive jumped ship to gobblepot for real, also getting into harry potter again doesn't help writing gotham fanfiction


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald waits for Jim after doing a job for Falcone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seems i really do like writing gobblepot! this chapter is mostly a flashback

Oswald was furious. He’d suffered through a busted lip and rib just to get a word out of James Gordon. Instead he was given a side eye and an escort out of the GCPD. His petty thievery was obviously not enough to earn him a presence with the white knight.

 

So he upped his game.

There was no way Jim could ignore him now.

He normally wouldn’t volunteer himself to do Falcone’s dirty work, but being behind a shootout was hard to ignore. The job also secured him a way out of the judgement of the law, so if Jim didn’t let him go he would have to deal with the mafia pulling chains in the police department to free him. Jim would hate to see his precious, honest legal system be twisted by criminal powers, if Oswald knew anything about Jim it was that.

Oswald was dragged into the ground level of the GCPD, the sound of cheering cops filled the building. He was finally brought in for a crime he couldn’t weasel his way out of, Oswald almost admired their blind faith in the stability of the law.

Once in the birdcage Oswald was able to get his bearings. The desks on the second floor were empty and there was no sign of a boy scout sucking up to the captain in the office, Jim Gordon wasn’t here.

Oswald could wait.

 

\---

 

_Oswald found Jim the third time._

_He stood outside Jim’s apartment, rubbing his hands together from the cold. He’d been contemplating knocking on the door for an eternity. He was fearful of the man behind the door, who he needed so desperately._

_He had pretended that he wanted no more of his affair with Jim for weeks. He was better than that. Or so he told himself. Jim was a cop and he was, well himself. It would never happen again. He wouldn’t let it._

_But here he was._

_Loitering outside Jim Gordon’s house._

_His mother always told him to let his emotions out instead of bottling them in. The fool that Oswald was thought that there was a bottle big enough for Jim. But no bottle could contain the monster of emotions that Jim caused Oswald. This wasn’t something Oswald could hold in or stab out._

_Here he was. A door knock away._

_He’d long finished worrying about what Jim would think. Oswald Cobblepot, at his doorstep, needing him so badly, ready to feed his ego. He’d long finished overthinking that their previous encounters were drunken mistakes and that Jim would beat him at the suggestion of it being anything more._

_On this night of all nights he thought he deserved it._

 

_He attempted once again to break the mental barrier between his fist and the door. He held his hand up, willing it to make contact with the wood._

_“Oswald?” Said a raspy voice from the stairs._

_Oswald jumped and shot a look at the stairs._

_“Jim!” he gasped. There he was. On the outside of his apartment._

_Jim walked closer to him, he was dangling a plastic bag of takeout from one hand, keys gripped in the other. Oswald felt his world crumbling around him._

_“What are you doing here?” He pushed Oswald out of the way to unlock his door. Oswald muffled a gasp at the contact._

_“I came.. I came to..” His words failed him, he looked at Jim through pained eyes, hoping that he would understand. That he would get it. The apartments heat was flooding outside, creating a warm inviting space that Oswald didn’t dare to enter._

_Jim walked into his apartment and put his takeout on his kitchen bench. He looked to Oswald who was still standing outside the door, then joined him outside the apartment, looking around for any signs of his neighbours._

_Oswald’s body tensed up when Jim grabbed his wrist and dragged him through the doorway. He jumped when the door was slammed shut behind them, he prepared for a forecast of pain._

_His back hit the wooden door as Jim pushed him against it, their mouths instantly colliding. Oswald’s hands took their place in Jim’s hair. He didn’t taste like whiskey for once._

_There was no way of preparing for this._

_Eventually Jim broke the kiss to have at it with Oswald’s neck, unbuttoning layers of clothing along the way. Oswald wanted to say something, anything, but the most important thing right now was to remove anything keeping him from Jim’s chest. He cursed Jim’s shirt and it’s many buttons, not that Jim was having much luck with his ensemble. The way Jim desperately pulled off Oswald’s last layer made fire burn through his body._

_Later Oswald was buttoning back up his shirt while comfortable on Jim’s couch. He could do with a shower but he doubted Jim owned shampoo, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome either. He knew what this was and what he was to Jim._

_Jim was rustling around in the kitchen, and by the many sounds of glass on glass, Oswald guessed he was getting a drink. This was confirmed when the ruffled Detective Gordon sank down into the couch next to him, drinking straight out of a whiskey bottle. His day hairstyle was completely destroyed, large locks of hair hung in front of his face, Oswald could’ve looked at him like this forever._

_Oswald took an offered drink out of the whiskey bottle, stifling a cough after, it was strong. How Jim could down it like water was beyond him._

_Although he had some theories._

_When Oswald felt that he had overstayed his welcome he stood up from the couch and smoothed out his vest, clearing his throat._

_“I think I should go.” Jim looked up._

_“If you want to.” He slurred, his voice was rough, Oswald couldn’t look him in the eye. Of course he didn’t want to._

_“I..” He stuttered, not providing any reasonable response. Jim stood up, Oswald felt like he was sinking into the carpet._

_Jim’s hand clutched onto Oswald’s sleeve, before Oswald could gather words he was pulled towards the detective and into his desperate gaze. The inch between them reeked of spirits._

_Oswald took the bottle out of Jim’s free hand, finishing what little was left._

_Their mouths collided again._

 

\---

 

Waiting was almost bearable.

He’d found good company in Edward Nygma, who had come to give him coffee. It was almost a tradition at this point.

He hadn’t forgotten what Ed did last time they saw each other. When he finally managed to bring it up, only as a simple thank you, Ed quickly dismissed it, and Oswald swore he could see pain behind Edward’s eyes. He felt his chest tighten, he was about to try to tell Ed that no one had done something like that for him before, that it meant more than he might think, but he was cut off by someone yelling the name of the man who just entered the building.

Jim was here.

Oswald gulped and turned his gaze to the entrance to the GCPD, immediately wishing he hadn’t. Jim wasn’t alone.

Cradled under his arm was a woman, they were laughing and smiling at each other. Oswald’s breath was drawn out of him, like his lungs had ceased function.

“Dr Thompkins is back.” Ed said to himself, as if to answer Oswald’s unspoken question. He had fondness in his voice.

Oswald glared at Jim with the fire of one thousand suns, willing the building to collapse on top of them. He’d never felt like this before. He _hated_ Jim.  
Normally he would be reaching for the sharpest object, but in this moment he wanted to hide. He wanted to hide and give into the tears forming in the back of his eyes.

As for _Thompkins._ He didn’t know if he felt sorry for her or if he wanted to make her internal organs external.

 

His eyes met Jim’s when he was let out. He couldn’t tell who he owed his freedom, he didn’t care. He wouldn’t be seeing the inside of this building ever again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya! i've settled on this being a 6 chapter work (with chapter 6 being an epilogue)

He’d been so good.

Oswald had been keeping as much distance as possible from the GCPD for almost a month now. He’d even been restraining from criminal activity in the hope that he’d never see the inside of the birdcage again.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, even think of it really, but he couldn’t stop thinking of his last visit. Of Jim and the woman at his hip. Of the helplessly pleasant smile on his face. His arm, how it was around her. How it wasn’t around him.  
Not that he wanted that anymore.

He'd hidden himself away in his mother's apartment. He'd turned down whatever Falcone had thrown at him. He'd suppressed his _urges._

His life without blood on his hands had been dull, but had kept him far from the attention of the GCPD.

 

Not that any of it mattered.

He was back in the birdcage again.

 

He had finally given into his mother's pleads for him to leave the apartment, to get some stale city air in his lungs. It would do him good, she said.  
He’d feel better, she said.

He couldn’t be mad at her for worrying, she had so little of an idea of what kept him locked away, or why he was on edge every time a siren was heard, or why a knife looked so at home in his hand. There were so many things she couldn’t know.

 

He had found himself browsing the top shelf selection of a nearby bottle shop. While he had the money (locking yourself in your house for weeks can do wonders to your finances) he was almost tempted to steal something, just for the rush. Of course, he held back, and was fully prepared to pay full price for wine, like the functional citizen he was so desperately trying to be.

He didn't get the chance.

 

If he ever found the idiot who tried to rob that bottler.

Being a known criminal at the scene of an armed robbery is an express ticket to the GCPD. Even if you weren’t holding the gun.  
Even if you were hiding behind a rack of wine.

So here Oswald was. The birdcage, where he vowed never to be in again.  
No one had even tried to question him about his involvement (or lack of) in the robbery. They had just _assumed_ he was guilty, and even if he wasn’t, he was guilty of _something_. They all wanted to see him behind bars.

 

He hadn’t seen Jim. At least that was one positive.

 

~~~

 

_The last time was, rather poetically, where it all began._

_Jim was following a lead. A low ranked politician supposedly got hit by the mob and all the family members with hands in GCPD pockets had closed up. Which meant that boy scout Jim Gordon was desperate, so desperate enough to be seen at Oswald’s club._

_It was 3 in the afternoon, the club was closed. Oswald was counting the cash in the till, he didn’t trust anyone else. He was alone too, and expected to be for quite some time._  
_Nothing goes the way you planned it to in Gotham._

_“Has cop happy hour started?” Oswald said as soon as he heard the doors open. Who else could it have been?_ _  
_ _He smiled when he heard Jim sigh in response._

 _“Oswald.” He walked over to the counter._  
  
_“Jim.” Oswald stuffed the cash back into the till._ _  
_ “What do you want?”

_“I need a-” Jim couldn’t finish his sentence. Oswald smirked._

_“Spit it out.”_

_“A favour.” The word pained him to say, Oswald would remember this forever._

_“I don’t know anything about the dead-” His smile was wiped off his face when Jim grabbed his collar and pulled him over the counter._

_“That’s_ not _how a favour works. You do know. Tell me.” His voice was harsh but his eyes were pained. He let Oswald go._

 _Oswald, of course, knew exactly what he wanted._ _  
_ _He knew the killers name too._

_This situation was worth squeezing._

_“And what do I get in return?” He smiled innocently, Jim groaned._

_“I'll. Owe. You.” His go-to line, Oswald scoffed._

_“When have I heard that before?”_

_“Oswald-”_

_“Jim.” He said for the second time._

  


~~~

 

It was getting late. Daytime detectives were packing away to be replaced by the night shift. Jim hadn't shown himself.

Oswald was anxious. Normally he would've been released by now. Surely either Jim or Falcone would've heard of his _capture_ , surely someone was on their way to get him?

He had to get out, he had a bar to run. His mother would be so worried, he was only meant to be gone for half an hour!

What made it worse was he was innocent this time.

He got up, now _very_ much anxious. He banged his fists on the bars until a cop came to shut him up.

“When am I getting out?” The cop laughed.

“Out? Sir that's your bed for the night.” He pointed to the silver bench inside the birdcage.

 

The colour drained from Oswald's face.

He wanted to yell, scream at the cop for keeping him here.

But he didn't. He sank down into the cold bench that was his unfortunate home for the night.

 

~~~

 

_Jim must've really been desperate for the name._

_He scanned the club for any side of fellow detectives, just incase his partner had followed him. When he determined the club to be free of law enforcement he turned back to Oswald._

_“Fine. Who do I have to.. take out.”_

_Oswald rolled his eyes. Typical._

_He grabbed Jim by his tie and pulled him into a kiss. Fueled by a confidence he didn't know he possessed._

_“You have something I want, I have more than one thing that you want.”_

_Jim stared at him, his eyes full of fear. He put his hand on Oswald's and looked around the bar, again. Oswald frowned._

_Was it that embarrassing to be seen with him?_

_He sat up on the bar, swinging his legs around towards Jim. He was going to get down, walk away, it was obvious that whatever advances he was making Jim wasn't receiving._

_He didn't get that far._

_Jim pulled him by his collar down into a kiss._

 

~~~

 

Oswald's self disgust was interrupted by a soft tapping on the bars of the birdcage. He turned towards the noise and found Edward tapping on the bars with a pen.

“Edward?” He hadn't seen the forensic in weeks.  
It wasn’t an unpleasant surprise.

“Mr Penguin!” Oswald smiled, shaking his head.

"Oswald, please."

“Oswald sorry.” He smiled, looking very pleased with himself. “I heard that you’re here for the night and I thought you might like some company… and food.” He was referring to a plastic bag in his hand.

Oswald’s anxiety was replaced with a warm feeling. Edward could get in so much trouble for this, he was going far out of his way to be kind to him.

“Thank you.” He said, in a soft voice.

 

The two sat in silence for a while, mostly while Oswald ate. Edward had pulled up a chair against the bars of the cage so he could sit next to Oswald. Surprisingly, no one had bothered them.

Oswald spoke when he realised how late it had gotten, while he enjoyed their friendly silence he had become worried for Edward.

“You should go home.” This shocked Edward out of a thought.

“It’s okay.” He said. Oswald frowned at him.

“Surely you have someone to be getting home to?”

“I don’t.” Ed shrugged, while Oswald scolded himself for feeling relieved.

 

Another silence between them. It was Ed who broke it this time.

“Haven’t seen you for a while.” He started to laugh but immediately caught himself. “Sorry- I mean- It’s good you haven’t been here-” He pushed up his glasses anxiously. Oswald smiled.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to come here. Well, this time.” He sighed, Ed looked at him curiously.

“I’ve gathered that you’ve been here for Detective Gordon?” Oswald shrugged.

“He wouldn’t see me so I stopped coming.” It wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth.  
  
“And today?”

“Discrimination against known criminals.” Ed laughed at that. Oswald smiled, he felt a great wash of relief when Ed didn’t continue to push the matter.

 

The two talked for what felt like (and probably was) hours. Oswald found himself listening to Edward talk about a video game he was playing, Oswald didn’t understand half of what Ed was saying, he sounded so enthusiastic, as if he’d never been able to speak like that before.

 

Come morning Oswald Cobblepot and Edward Nygma were found asleep on the floor on either side of the birdcage, their heads leaning against each other through the bars. A small detail that was missed by many morning shift detectives was that their fingers were entwined. They were holding hands for who knows how long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it bad that i really prefer writing gobblepot? nygmobblepot is too wholesome (and thats saying something for gotham)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first Gotham fanfic! i don't write very often but i hope to keep this up


End file.
